Well, the lights are back on. The air purifiers churning out recycled farts. The humming of the nexus-engines providing a soothing-if-not-ominous brown noise. The Space-Ship Omega has been roused from its slumber. ‘Cause sometimes going home isn’t always bad. After creating a Discord last year for OL acolytes (it’s not a cult, but it’s also not not a cult), the question became rather daunting: what purpose did a blog serve? It was a question which hounded me from tip to taint, and I suppose eventually I fell upon the misbegotten answer. I decided that the blog served no purpose.
I was incorrect, friends. You see, it’s a smaller, more intimate gathering for those not up for the perpetual word-vomiting of fellow Space-Ship inhabitants. But, as well? It’s a fantastic archive of my travels through space-time. The blog proves to be snapshot of my existence at various points in my linear meat-space existence. If this blog ain’t for anyone else, it’s for me. But I hope it’ll also be for you.
You see, going home isn’t always bad. Sometimes, it’s exactly what you need. A reprieve, an enclave, an oasis.
This is Monday Morning Commute. Grab a pop, pop off your pants, and let’s shoot the shit about what we’re looking forward to this week. And if it’s only me? Babbling to me? Into infinity? I’m fine with it.
Goodness, gracious, I haven’t penned an MMC since fucking June?
This summer: it was all a blur (and then it was nothing).
Goodness, gracious, I haven’t penned anything in here since September?
This past month: it was all a blur (and then it was nothing).
Goodness, gracious, I haven’t taken a breath since the pandemic ended?
This pandemic: it was all a blur (and then it was nothing).
Over the weekend I had a dream that I was on campus, dying of COVID. In case you’re wondering how I’m doing. Over the past few weeks I swear the right side of my beard has gone entirely gray. In case you’re wondering how I’m doing. I feel like a husk, hollowed out, but excited to be back on campus. It’s a weird time, a ghost town, a mournful tribune to what we’ve lost, while appreciating we’re back on campus.
It’s a weird time.
Furthermore, I don’t really know the state of OL anymore. No one really reads blogs anymore, Discord has siphoned all of our conversation, and any meaningful connections with communities across the internet have seemingly moved to Substack.
So why the fuck am I here? Honestly? I’m not sure. If nothing else, I figure writing MMC every week could serve as an enjoyable fossil record for my interests at any given point in time. You can cut the rings in my soul, and chronicle what was on my mind. As well, I miss writing and this place is my only outlet.
This is Monday Morning Commute.
It’s okay to be excited, my friends! I know we live in a callous world, with Billionaires Bouncing Around The Atmosphere while people starve, as the world burns. I know we live in a callous world, with Talking Heads Politicizing A Lifesaving Vaccine. But the majority of us sentient sacks of star dust are just trying to get by. Make a little love, eat a little food, share in some authentic and fulfilling moments.
It’s easy to get bogged down in the muck, the miasma, and the misery. Lord knows, we all eat enough nut shots on a micro and macro level on a day-to-day and week-to-week basis But fuck! Push back! Fight back! Salvage the simplistic moments and appreciate the good.
It’s easier said than done, sure. I’m guilty as fuck of succumbing to the Daunting Nature of It All. One of my superpowers is really just fretting about the past, the present, and the ever arriving future. At the same time though, I try to appreciate the small glimpses into peace and tranquility.
Some weeks it’s fucking hard!
Not this week though, nope! Motherfuckers this week I’m finally done with remote learning. Finally, finally, finally. After seventeen months and four-and-a-half semesters. What a miserable, enlightening, challenging, occasionally rewarding, and emotionally eviscerating experience. I’m not sure I got much from it, I’m not sure I could do it again, but after this week I won’t be asked to for the time being.
Let’s hang the fuck out, friends. Hang the fuck out, and dare I say, be excited about shit! This is Monday Morning Commute!
It’s been a hot fucking minute since I rattled off one of these diarrhea-blasts of existential enormity, no? But I’m here right now, ready to plunder your holes with my textual absurdity. Let the ole cyber-tongue rattle around and find where it gets you good. I’m not saying you know that I’m good for, but if you’ve found this post you probably already know me. Yes? Fucking yes!
How has everyone been doing? I’ve been surfing along the astral-plane and simultaneously tethered to this rot-ass meat-space like the rest of ya’ll. When I’m not high and surfing the Beyond with Bateman or my Wife, I’m trudging through a miserable remote summer class.
What’s up, my dudes? I know I’m tardy again with this column, but fucking take what you get! Are you the one writing it? Are you the one staring blankly at the screen contemplating time, space, societal collapse, and booty? No! So, judge not. Or fucking judge, who gives a shit. Now we can get into this shit with my defensive posturing out of the way!
It’s hot as balls this week, and I’m both physically sweating due to the weather and existentially sweating due to my summer class starting next week. I fucking simply ain’t sweating teaching remotely once again, but I take solace in knowing it’s the final semester of it for me.
But I ain’t completely adrift in the muck-riddled malaise! Nah! Nope! I’m currently anticipating, enjoying, and furiously masturbating to. Just really cranking on it, dry style, blisters forming, as I foam at the mouth with bug-eyed intensity.
You will get your goddamn Monday Morning Commute when I give it to you, you plebs! Seriously though, I’m sorry. Sorry for lashing out at you. Sorry for being tardy again with the Monday Morning Commute. It’s Wednesday! Hump day! So hopefully your commutes are going well, your weeks are burning away, and your days are littered with promising arts, farts, and existential libations!
As well, if I’m being honest, I’m trying to suss out what these weekly columns mean in the face of a happening Discord channel. Okay, not like happening-happening, but like more, bustling. What is the function of such a column as MMC when we’re all talking continuously? How do I convince people on the Discord to come hang out here, with those who still don’t use it?
I don’t have any of these answers, and I must admit my confusion has led to sort of a malaise regarding it all. Did I punt my blog into obsolescence?
What rounds me back into writing the column here are two factors. First, as a means to engage with those not using Discord (though, please hang out here!), and as well as a time capsule for myself. So in five years when I’m curious as to what I was up to in 2021, what I was enjoying, and what I was thinking about, I can surf the digital universe to a column such as thing. Peek into my psyche, shudder, and carry on with my life.
Enough of that ambling preamble, let’s get into the nitty gritty! The wishy washy! The…I don’t know, some sort of phrase. Here’s what I’m digging this week. Then I hope you’ll both join me in the comments and on our OL Discord.
Goddamn, it’s really been a month since I dropped ya’ll a peek into my life? Gave you a glimpse into the fart-laden, madness-powered halls of my existence? Again, I say goddamn! You can really tell the end of the semester blasted me in the nards and then open-hand slapped me into submission. Anyhoo — check it out, a few glimpses into my meat-space from the past month! Admittedly, I’ve accidentally deleted a lot of photos from my camera, so what you’re really seeing are the ones that escaped the mistaken cullings.
Nonetheless! Here you go! Join me in the comments section with your own views, my friends!
This is Views From The Space-Ship!
If John Carpenter ain’t the coolest motherfucker alive, I don’t know who happens to be. Look at that Force of Nature, absolutely cutting a fucking rug. Absolute stable of insane movies directed? Yup. Absolute stable of insane soundtracks and albums recorded? Yup! Dude’s just dominating on all fronts, and all he seems to have to do in his old age is play music with his family and rock video games.
Been listening to his latest album lately, and today’s column title is a reference to its titular track: Alive After Death. Shit dudes, it’s even got a fucking rad music video.
Anyways, the phrase “Alive After Death” resonates with my ass lately. Maybe it resonates as a reference to emerging from a post-pandemic world. Maybe it resonates with my idea that the ideal life is a recursive one, where if we aren’t continuously dying and emerging changed after learning from our mistakes, we’re doing it wrong. Maybe it resonates with the feeling that comes at the end of every semester, born anew after the cataclysm of another school year in the books.
Whatever the case, the phrase is snared in my synapses, and I figured I’d share it with you. Not just the song, but the thoughts behind its resonance, and a little bit of the ole opening up of the soul.
This is Monday Morning Commute. You already know the fucking drill.
Classes are finally fucking over, my friends! Sure, I got some tutoring and some grading to do, but that shit is small potatoes. Stick a couple of them in my ass and send me into the desert! I don’t care. Ain’t no problem. I’ll return to you later in the day with some glazed baked potatoes and an impish grin! But legit, it feels fucking good to have a few weeks off before the Summer Semester cranks up! Cranks out. Cranks…off?
It’s been fucking crazy, dudes. Like, super fucking crazy around these parts. Not in a wholly bad way, but just fucking crazy. For example, I’ve literally typed up a draft of MMC the last two weeks and never gotten around to finishing them. We’re talking crazy to that ass-clenching degree. Anyways, it’s the motherfucking Weekend (Open Bar) and I’m goddamn ecstatic. The work laptop is closed, the ring light is powered off, and my existential pud is in my hands.